Absolutely Sure Of
by FrostFlamer
Summary: A series of One-Shots, from the POV of anyone but the Golden Trio. Most will be placed after the war, but some will not be. Rated T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter. **

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If you asked Luna Lovegood to tell you two things she was absolutely, positively sure about, it would be these:

First, Thestrals were real. Totally, completely, absolutely, undoubtedly.

Second, the Golden Trio were always meant to be. They weren't Harry Potter, Orphaned Half-Blood, Ronald Weasley, Redheaded Pureblood, and Hermione Granger, Brilliant Muggleborn. No, they were HarryandRonandHermione. (Or as she liked to call them in her head, HarRoMione.) She believed that if you went to another dimension, they would still find a way to find each other.

She had never heard of three-way soul mates, but if there ever were such a case, it would be them.

Of that she was absolutely sure of.

~FROST~

If you asked Neville Longbottom to tell you two things he was absolutely, positively sure about, it would be these:

First, Luna Lovegood was the looniest, strangest, most interesting, (most prettiest) girl he had ever met.

Second, Ginny, no matter how hard she tried, would never be able to be a member of the Golden Trio. (Or the Golden Quartet, if you wanted to be technical about it.) More importantly, she would never be number one in Harry's heart. No, that would be Ron and Hermione. Because they were HarRoMione. (Gah, he'd been spending too much time around Luna. Not that that was a bad thing, necessarily.)

He would agree with Luna if he knew her theory—HarryandRonandHermione were definitely soul mates.

Of that he was absolutely sure of.

~FROST~

If you asked Ginny Weasley to tell you two things she was absolutely, positively sure about, it would be these:

First, she would never compare to Hermione Granger. (How could she even begin to put herself in the same league as the Brightest Witch of Her Age and Savior of the Wizarding World? How could she, Ginny Weasley, whose only real, non-indirect claim to fame was being a female Weasley, live up to Hermione Granger?)

Second, the Golden Trio were the closest-knit group she had ever encountered. Time and time again, she had tried to make it the Golden Quartet, but to no avail. Their relationship as a Trio had solidified in their Third Year, and she hadn't begun trying to be the fourth member until their fifth. Then Harry and Ron and Hermione had gone off to hunt for Horcruxes, the Boy-Who-Lived had broken up with her, and she had lost her chance. She had overheard a conversation between Luna and Neville once. They had called the Golden Trio HarRoMione. And yet, she still tried.

She would never be first in Harry's heart. That place would be shared by her brother and the bushy-haired Muggleborn. Always.

Of that she was absolutely sure of.

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**This is another one of those really odd formatting/ideas that I seem to enjoy doing.**

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**Frost, out.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling. Therefore I do not own Harry Potter.**

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If you asked Pansy Parkinson to tell you the two things she was absolutely, positively sure of, it would be these:

First, her cousin was never going to get better. The Healers had said so. Seamus Finnegan would be doomed to live the rest of his life paralyzed from his waist down.

Second, life would never go in a Slytherin's favor. Yesterday, she had walked into a store in order to buy a Seeker's Snitch for Draco and a new pair of Keeping gloves for Blaise. She had been thrown out because she was a Slytherin. Not to mention hexed. It was very probable that she'd always have that scar on her collarbone. Snape, bless his blackened, dried-up, shriveled soul, had tried to soften it by being biased in their favor, but even that had not been enough to shield them from what the other Houses' alumni and current students said. So they had milked what good attention they could, all the while bracing themselves for the impact of leaving his protective wing.

It had come far sooner than they had anticipated, and the force of it had shocked all of them. All were inferior under the Dark Lord's eye, his Death Eaters merely pawns, their lives his to play with. Yes, fortune would never shine down on a Slytherin.

Of that she was sure of.

~FROST~

If you asked Blaise Zabini to tell you the two things he was absolutely, positively sure of, it would be these:

First, his mother was a very persuasive, devilish, evil lady. He was still trying to figure out how his father tripping down the stairs three times in a row hadn't been considered suspicious.

Second, if you wore the colors green and silver (or any colors other than red and gold, really) during your Hogwarts years, you were as good as fucked after the war. He had stayed neutral the entire time, hoping to keep him and his entire extended family (he had a crazy lot of half-siblings) safe and alive and intact. Still, when he and his half-siblings had all moved into Flint Manor after Marcus' dad died, it wasn't even a week before someone tried to burn the old home down. The grounds had smelled like smoke and ashes for days. Draco had told his mother, who had tried to file a complaint at the Ministry, but he and Marcus and Adrian already knew. They had been labeled Death Eaters by the public, and he longed for the good old days of Hogwarts when they had all laughed at Potter's newest scandal by Rita Skeeter, when they hadn't quite yet understood what it meant to have the whole world hating your guts. Now they did.

Fuck the public. Fuck Skeeter. And so Blaise Zabini tipped back the small shot glass, draining the contents into his mouth. His half-siblings would find his cold corpse the next morning, dead from suicide by poisoning. Yes, death was the only escape for a Slytherin.

Of that he was sure of.

~FROST~

If you asked Theodore Nott to tell you the two things he was absolutely, positively sure of, it would be these:

First, his father was a cold hearted bastard who should have rotted in the deepest, darkest, most Dementor-infested cell in Azkaban. The Kiss was too good for him, the fucker.

Second, if the goddamn Aurors with shitty prejudices and fucking black and white views of the world raided his home just one more damn time, he was going to Avada himself in the head, impossibility be damned. Just because his Hogwarts House emblem had been a snake didn't mean that he was a fucking Death Eater! Also, he had very publicly withdrawn support from his fucking father as soon as he was able to. Fucking bastard. Fucking prejudices. Fucking Voldemort. Fucking Potter.

The wizarding world would never quite be able to let go of their prejudices. Forever, families even slightly associated with Voldemort would be tainted.

Of that he was sure of.

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**I find that it is easiest to write Theodore Nott Jr. when he swears all the time. Maybe it's because I know a guy named Theo who swears every other word. I have no excuse for Blaise, but he doesn't swear nearly as much as Theo.**

**Kudos go to koryandrs! You're fantastic!**

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**Frost, out.**


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